Author, columnist, broadcaster, funny bird.

THAT sex article…

So today, at last, the article I mentioned in my blog last week was published, in the Daily Mail.

And boy oh boy, has that been fun. Here it is. Please read, laugh, and then come back here to read what I really wanted to say:http://bit.ly/fUFh4p

I’m breathing something of an enormous sigh of relief tonight because the article has been received a LOT better than I feared it might. I think I was fearing total character annihilation by angry, bitchy, snarky, hate-filled comments. So y’know….not a terrific outcome all in all.

But instead – halleluyah! – I’ve received an enormous volume of funny, supportive, kind and empathetic emails, tweets and texts from mums (and dads) who also know what it’s like to hit the sack and start drooling (but not in a good way)within three nanoseconds.

As so often with such things, the article left a lot of questions unanswered. It also left a lot of excellent, honest quotes from wonderful people out. Such is the nature of the bastard mean word count, and of The Beast.

And in this case The Beast is so very beastly, cutthroat, merciless and, frankly, terrifying, it leaves most writers running for cover under their laptop cases.

We bow to the might of The Beast, and receive our cheques gratefully.

Luckily for we cowering writers, there are blogs, where we can fill in the considerable blanks left by the restrictive column inches and publication style. It’s also where we can say all the words we’d have liked to, in an article about sex.
So….if I may….:

• Fuck, shag, hump, wank, frottage (good word), suck, blow (always get confused about those last two, but never mind. On we go…), screw, fornicate, tits, shaft (verb or noun), dick (ditto), nipples and buttocks.
Oh OK, and bollocks. Let’s not forget one of my favourites. (The word, not the actual bollocks. Just so we’re clear. Bollocks are…kinda weird.)

• Thank you. I feel MUCH better now. Also…

• Not all women who sometimes choose sleep over shagging are frigid old hags. Some are quite sexy when they get round to it. Many of us are even damned, smokin’ HOT. And most are quite, quite normal, real women who find giving birth + looking after kids + job + house + washing + organising all birthdays + organising all holidays + organising all playdates + cleaning the toilets a little bit tiring.

• If men are cross with them for being tired, they are very welcome to help out with any or all of the above. Especially the Giving Birth part. Oh, I see what they did there…Clever.

• Many of us get very frisky during the day. Sadly, many of us are also at WORK during the day. So we have to put our frisk on hold. I’m not sure about you, but I find it hard to hold my frisk for nine hours. By 10pm I’m all frisked out.

• Now then, a little more seriously…Sex is a VERY important part of most loving, fulfilled relationships. It’s not enough really to just say ‘No thanks, I’m tired’ every night. If you’re saying that, then there’s a good chance you’re not making your partner very happy. And things are wrong in your relationship in general. This is bad. Go shag each other at your earliest opportunity. Which may of course, be next month…

• If either party in a relationship isn’t happy with the amount of sex they get, then something needs to change. And not just the underwear. If he wants it every day, and she’s too knackered for that, then he can bugger off, quite frankly. If she wants it every day, and he’s too tired for that amount, then so can she. But somewhere, somewhere between Every Day and Once a Year, there lies a seductive, tempting, foxy little compromise. Compromise is good. Grab her by the balls (oh hang on, this is getting complicated…) and give her a whirl.

• Long-term relationships are hard work. They don’t just ‘happen’. I’ve been with my husband for 17 years (oh Jesus…. I need some air….) and we’ve sure had our Bad Times here and there. And right over there. But Bad Times don’t mean Total Doom. They just need some careful handling and some good, old-fashioned, mouth to mouth, in yer face comm-un-i-ca-tion.

• It’s good to talk. So do. Shoving things under carpets is bad. And you can get some nasty carpet burn. And flea bites.

• Lastly, remember this: it is almost impossible to feel worse after a shag. Scientists have cruelly tested this on unfortunate undergraduates for years, and still they’ve not found a single one who feels worse of after some sex. Even mediocre sex when they’re pissed, after a chicken madras and six pints. So even if you don’t quite feel like it, sometimes it’s worth having a go.
It’s a bit like taramasalata. It shouldn’t work, and you don’t really feel like it when it’s offered but then, once you’ve had your first little taste you think, “Hey, this taramasalata stuff ain’t too bad,” and start stuffing your face with it.
Moving swiftly on…

Casual Greek dips aside (work with me here…) sex is generally a good thing. And yes, I do actually have sexual intercourse with my lurve-partner more than twice a month, but thanks for the concern. I was just saying that twice a month isn’t uncommon in many marriages where young children are involved.

Also, if a man doesn’t have sex more than twice a month he can’t walk upstairs without his testicles exploding. Scientists have proved this too. They really should get out more.

Right then, that’s all for now. I’m off to have rampant, lustful, shirt-ripping, glass-shattering, head-spinning sex now. Just as soon I’ve made the packed lunches, cleaned out my son’s football kit, put on the laundry and checked my email. And, of course, unless I fall asleep first…

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. ; -)

PS There is MUCH more about sex after children in my first two books. Here you go:

He he! You did forget to mention football, which is on at the time that women require their husbands to ascend for sex if they want it, rather than after the football, when the woman is asleep and will not thank anyone who prods them in the back. I come downstairs after the teeth-cleaning, and inform him at the door, “If you wannit, come and geddit. You can skyplus the football, but you can’t skyplus me”.
Romantic isn’t it?! That’s the best bit about sex after kids – you may not be swinging from the chandeliers but (if you’ll pardon the pun), there’s a lot less fannying around worrying about ‘romance’ and a bit more getting the job done!
x x x